


rain is falling, looks like love

by alullabytoleaveby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Schmoop, Student!Cas, barista!cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:17:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alullabytoleaveby/pseuds/alullabytoleaveby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Um. I didn’t order this.” </p><p>Cas shrugs.“It’s on the house. Consider it a thank you for your patience.” </p><p>Dean snorts. “Thanks, I guess. Although I’ve never been much of a muffin man. Honestly, I’d prefer a piece of pie,” he says with a winning smile. Cas determinedly doesn’t fall for it.</p><p>“Beggars can’t be choosers, Dean. Eat your muffin.”</p><p>--</p><p>OR: Cas works at a coffeeshop, Dean is a customer, and they're both ridiculously in love with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	rain is falling, looks like love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nicKnack22](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicKnack22/gifts).



> Happy birthday Musey my dear (I know I'm a day early whatever)! I hope you like it!
> 
> All my thanks to destielpasta for giving this a once over.

It’s a little after three on Monday when he comes into the coffee shop, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind and the rain, his shoulders hunched against the cold and Cas feels mesmerized by the stranger. He stops wiping down the counter and stares, taking him in. He’s beautiful, really, with his light brown hair, bright green eyes, and a half forgotten smirk on his lips. The man shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, shakes his head slightly to get rid of some of the rain water dripping from him, and drapes the coat across the back of a chair in the nearly empty cafe, before he comes up to the counter.

“Just, uh, just a coffee for me. Largest size you got.”  

Cas blinks, his mouth falling open slightly, because  _Jesus_ , up close he’s even more attractive and now Cas can clearly see a smattering of freckles across his face and he desperately wants to lean forward and count every single one. The man clears his throat after a second, his expression going from expectant to concerned. “Dude? You okay?”

“Fine, fine!” Cas assures hurriedly, snapping out of his funk. “Sorry. I didn’t. Nevermind. Coffee, right? Cream? Sugar?” The man shakes his head.

“Black’s fine.”  

Cas nods. “Coming right up. Your name?” he asks reflexively. The man raises his eyebrows and takes an exaggerated look around the cafe, where he’s the only customer. Cas flushes, embarrassed, but still takes one of the ceramic mugs lining the top of the espresso machine and fills it to the brim, even though every instinct in his body is screaming at him to duck behind the counter and hide.

“How much do I owe ya?” 

“Two dollars,” Cas rattles off, pleased with himself when he doesn’t stumble over his words. The man pays, takes his cup of joe, and then settles himself at the table, pulling out a book that looks more than a little worse for the wear. Cas watches him for thirty more seconds, before he shakes his head and makes his escape, darting to the back room to wallow in his own shame and mortification for a few moments. 

Sure it’s been a quiet day with the crappy weather and Cas  _has_  been a little bored (his reading assignment on medieval monks isn’t anymore interesting in the doom and gloom of a rainy day than it was over the weekend in the sunshine), but that’s no excuse for Cas to lose his head over a beautiful stranger. He leans his head back against the wall and gives a soft groan as his mind replays in excruciating detail his humiliation. He rubs at his eyes, as if the pressure will remove the incident from his brain, but it doesn’t do much more than make spots appear behind his eyelids.

Ten minutes later, he hears the bell of the front door, signaling that there’s another customer. Cas takes a deep breath and mentally prepares himself (and maybe sorta hoping that the man has left), before going back to the front. Beautiful-Stranger is still at the corner table reading, but Miss Missouri is shaking out her umbrella near the door. Cas smiles wide at her.

“Good afternoon, Missouri. Your usual?” Cas asks, already reaching for the lemon tea bags on the shelf.

“To go this time, sugar. I’ve got an appointment in twenty minutes. Damn fool wants to drive out in this rain for a palm reading and I have half a mind to predict misfortune, just to see her squirm a little.” Cas laughs, as he goes about making the tea, adding a teaspoonful of the honey the shop gets in from a local beekeeper and reaches into the pastry case to pull out a piece of blueberry pound cake to bag up for her.

“You know they get upset when you give them bad news.” Missouri huffs. “Do you really want to have to deal with that?”

“I suppose you’re right.”

Cas snaps a lid on her steaming hot tea and passes it, along with her cake, over the counter to her before ringing her up. “You have a good day now, Castiel.” Cas nods at her and gives her a small wave as she leaves and then it’s back to him and Beautiful-Stranger, all by themselves. Cas clears his throat, picks up his rag, and begins to wipe down the machines again.

“Good to know that you’re capable of having a human interaction without your brain skipping like a record player,” Beautiful-Stranger says after a few moments of silence. Cas pauses in his work and looks up, fixing the man with a glare, although Cas supposes it’s rather ineffective because Beautiful-Stranger just laughs. Cas rolls his eyes and goes back to cleaning up. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. Really. I’m flattered, more than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever left anyone  _speechless_  before just by ordering a coffee.”

“I was just…surprised,” Cas says diplomatically. “You’re the first customer I’ve seen in two hours.” Which is  _true_  after all. “Don’t read anything into it.” The man laughs again before turning his gaze back to his book. 

“Whatever you say man.” Beautiful-Stranger doesn’t speak again. A couple more people come in out of the rain to get a coffee and Cas serves them, the entire time feeling like someone is watching him but, every time he glances out of the corner of his eyes at Beautiful-Stranger, he’s focused on his reading and definitely not looking at Castiel. After the third time the hair on the back of his neck stands on end, Cas sighs, chalks it up to wishful thinking, and works through the discomfort. 

Honestly, he wouldn’t mind if Beautiful-Stranger was watching him. He may be a bit of a jerk, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Cas hooked up with someone whose personality wasn’t stellar. He didn’t need to be a fantastic human being in order for them both to get off but considering how much Cas fucked up his first impression, he very much doubts that him and Beautiful-Stranger will be going back to his place for a tumble in the sheets any time soon.

About an hour after he came in, Beautiful-Stranger dogears the page in his book, stands up, and shrugs his coat back on. With a smirk, he walks back up to the counter and drops a five dollar bill into the tip jar. 

“See ya around, Cas.” He heads for the door and, just before he steps outside, he turns around for one last look at Cas, catching his eye. “And my name’s Dean.” He winks at Cas and then goes back out into the rain.

—

Dean comes back around the same time on Wednesday, but this time the weather is nice and crisp, early fall, and the coffee shop is busy with its mid-afternoon rush. There’s a whole bunch of high schoolers taking up two tables, one group working on a project, the other gossiping. There’s three or four beaten down professionals that need their three pm pick me up and a college student—Kevin Tran—reading a rather thick volume while listening to music that’s turned up loud enough that Cas can faintly hear it, even though he’s wearing earbuds.

“Well it’s certainly busier in here than it was a couple days ago,” Dean remarks as he makes his way to the counter.

“Dean,” Cas greets. “Black coffee again?”

“Well look at that, you remembered my order. I feel special.”

Cas shoots him a look. “It isn’t exactly complicated. Do you want it or not?” 

“Yeah Cas, coffee’s fine.”

Cas nods. “Coffee’s brewing right now. Have a seat, I’ll bring it out in a minute.”

“Thanks man.” Dean hands him two dollars for the coffee then drops another into the tip jar. There are two more people in line after Dean, and by the time Cas gets them settled—two lattes, one with an extra shot to go—the coffee’s ready. Cas pours it into a mug and, last second, before steps out from behind the counter, Cas grabs a blueberry muffin and sticks it on a plate. He brings both of them over to Dean.

Dean blinks, confused, when Cas puts the muffin on the table next to his coffee.

“Um. I didn’t order this.”

Cas shrugs.“It’s on the house. Consider it a thank you for your patience.”

Dean snorts. “Thanks, I guess. Although I’ve never been much of a muffin man. Honestly, I’d prefer a piece of pie,” he says with a winning smile. Cas determinedly doesn’t fall for it.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Dean. Eat your muffin.”

A couple more people walk through the door and Cas goes back to work. When there’s another lull, Cas chances a glance over to where Dean is sitting and he grins—the muffin’s wrapper is folded neatly on the plate, the pastry itself entirely gone.

Around quarter to four, the high school students clear out, cutting the noise level of the cafe down considerably. Kevin’s still hard at work and Cas is wiping down the espresso machine once more before he gives into temptation. He’s been watching Dean for a little while now, taking in the fact that he really is one  _gorgeous_  man, but it’s not enough. 

“So what’re you reading? Anything good?” The question’s out before Cas can over think it and he immediately regrets it. Cas hates it when people disturb him when he’s reading; he hopes that Dean isn’t too annoyed with the interruption. But Dean simply marks his spot with his finger and closes the book before glancing up, his expression pleasantly surprised at being spoken to.

“Yeah. Vonnegut,  _Slaughterhouse Five_.”

Cas hums in response. “Never read him.”

“Ugh, you’re killing me dude!”

“So you’d recommend him then?” Cas asks with a smile. Dean laughs.

“Yeah. Definitely. I mean. I don’t really read that much. But Vonnegut’s always my go to when I need something to pass the time.”

“So you’re just passing the time today?”

Dean nods. “And Monday too. Sammy—my little brother—he’s got this SAT prep thing down at the library three times a week, so I’m just killing time until it’s over and I have to go pick him up.” Dean glances at the clock on the wall. “Which is right about now, actually,” he says pushing his chair away from the table and standing up.

“Have a good day, Dean.”

“You too, Cas. I’ll be back Friday,” he calls over his shoulder before turning and walking out the door. 

After the door shuts, the bell above it clanging with the motion, Cas sighs. It’s time to get back to work.

—

Castiel  _doesn’t_  actually see Dean on Friday, mostly because he has class from one to four and then a meeting with his thesis advisor after that. It’s a long, grueling day and Cas trudges home and collapses into bed, too tired to even make himself dinner, forgetting entirely about Dean. He works a morning shift on Saturday, spends all of Sunday working on his classwork, and then Monday afternoon finds him once again making the beverages for the caffeine deprived and desperate.

It’s only when it’s about three o’clock and Dean’s walking through the door that Castiel remembers Dean’s promise of returning at the end of the previous week. Dean smiles widely when his eyes land on Castiel standing behind the counter.

“Cas!”

“Hello Dean.”

“I was expecting to see you here Friday,” Dean says, “I was kinda worried you’d gotten sick or something. I almost asked the other guy who was here, but well…I didn’t want to seem like a creep or anything.” Cas feels his face warm, but he gives Dean a small, reassuring smile. 

“I wasn’t sick. I had class.”

“Oh. You’re still in school?” Dean asks. 

“I’m a senior over at KU. I’m a history major.” 

“That’s…cool.” Dean says and then his cheeks turn pink. Cas cocks his head to the side, unsure why Dean’s suddenly embarrassed. Dean clears his throat. “So uh, you only work Mondays and Wednesdays?”

“Saturdays too.”

“Cool,” Dean says again, shuffling his feet a bit. “So…um. Coffee?” Cas nods.

“Of course, Dean.” Cas sets about getting a mug and pouring coffee into it. “More Vonnegut today?” Cas asks, trying to forestall Dean’s retreat to his table. Dean shrugs.

“Finished  _Slaughterhouse_  on Friday. You weren’t here to distract me,” he replies and oh yes, that smirk is most definitely flirtatious. “Got some Tolkien for today.”

“He’s the one who wrote about hobbits, right?” Cas asks. Dean just about chokes on his coffee.

“The one who—Are you shitting me?” Dean asks, eyes wide and shocked.

“…No?” Cas answers, his brow furrowing, not sure if this is the right answer or not. 

“Please tell me you’ve at least seen the movies. I could forgive not reading the books if you at least saw the movies.”

Cas shrugs. “I was never particularly interested in them. Well, I’ve never been particularly interested in movies in general.”

Dean groans. “I don’t think we can be friends now, Cas. I’m so sorry.” Cas laughs. “Seriously, dude. I’m gonna have to like. Lend you the DVDs or something.” There’s a small sting of disappointment in Cas’ gut that Dean didn’t offer to watch them with him, but he doesn’t let it show.

“I don’t have a DVD player,” Cas admits. Dean just shakes his head. 

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he says, although Cas knows he isn’t really serious; he’s still smiling after all. He picks up his mug of coffee and walks to his table, letting Cas get back to work.  

Cas knows it’s ridiculous, but the interaction leaves him in a good mood for the rest of the day.

— 

Their routine continues through the fall and into the winter. Very soon, the days Dean comes in are Cas’ favorite days of the week. Even Mondays, when he has to sit through an early morning lecture before working all afternoon, are made alright when he hears the door chime tinkle and sees Dean’s wide smile that made his green eyes sparkle.

There’s always an intense sense of surprise and pride every time he sees it. He, Castiel, makes Dean smile. He’s the one who manages to make him grin and laugh and Cas, who has never been particularly adept with social interactions, isn’t really sure how he does it, but he does know that he never wants it to stop. Dean is attractive in general, but when he smiles, Cas feels like he can see his soul shine through. He is beautiful, radiant, and Cas never wants to look away.

As the weeks go by, Cas is amazed at how much he learns about Dean, his family, his life. He dropped out of high school at sixteen to help take care of his little brother and his alcoholic father (he went back and got his GED at nineteen at Sam’s insistence). Dean works as a mechanic because he’s good at fixing things (and it also helps that his boss is an old family friend that’s flexible with his schedule). Dean is bisexual but doesn’t really see the whole point in making a big deal out of it (Sam found out when he walked in on Dean going down on a football player in high school and Dean was really less concerned that Sam saw him blowing a dude than he was that Sam  _interrupted_.)  

His best friend is a red haired hacker named Charlie who he LARPs with on the weekends (Dean’s official title is Handmaiden, but he insists he acts more as a bodyguard than anything else). Dean loves sci-fi and fantasy, likes Game of Thrones, but thinks the books are better (and yes, he’s aware he sounds like a douchebag when he says it, he doesn’t care). His guilty pleasure show is a really awful hospital soap called Dr. Sexy(He wears cowboy boots.  _Cowboy boots_!).  

Pie is Dean’s favorite food (and maybe after he learns that little tidbit, Cas would, on the sly, slip him a piece of pie occasionally from the bakery case). 

And Dean learns plenty about Cas, too. Cas has told Dean all about growing up in a strict Christian household, how he struggled with his sexuality and coming out, how his relationship with his parents never really recovered after that, although he’s gone through three labels since that initial conversation. His parents have never heard of pansexuality, don’t think it exists, and roll their eyes when he brings it up (and it fucking cuts, it really does, that they do that in the first place). They insist it’s just a phase he’s going through (“But honey, didn’t you tell us you were gay when you were in high school? See how long that lasted!”). But Cas supposes that they could be a lot worse. They’ve never thrown him out and they still pay for his tuition. And it’s not like Cas ever made it easy for them (and oh did Dean snarl at that, not believing for a second that Cas deserved to be blamed for his parents’ closed mindedness and failure to acknowledge and take seriously a pretty damn big part of Cas’ identity). 

He’s got a tattoo of a bumblebee on his ass because he was feeling rebellious while drunk, after finals, but before winter break in his sophomore year. He’s still not sure how he got away with his parents never finding out (Dean had laughed goodnaturedly at the tale and teased him about it for two weeks by buzzing every time he saw Cas). Cas changed his major twice before settling on history. He took a class on a whim, for his gen ed requirements, and fell in love. He’s writing his thesis on the rise of Christianity, because while Cas is no longer religious at this point in his life, he finds fascinating the rapidity of the spread of the religion because of how powerful their message was to the ostracized and outcast. 

Cas doesn’t really own a cat—his apartment doesn’t allow pets—but he still buys cat food and leaves a little bowl outside on the back steps for the strays in the area. They recognize him at this point and, while most of them are still really feral, they rub up against his legs when he refills the food bowl and sometimes they let him pet them. He wishes he could do more for the cats, especially when it’s super cold in the winter, but he can’t afford to get evicted over something like that. 

It takes a few weeks for Cas to realize, but Dean’s stopped bringing a book with him entirely. The moment that he notices, there’s a warm feeling that fills his chest and lingers for the entire hour that Dean stays until he has to go pick up Sam.

Dean’s the best, most interesting thing to happen to Castiel in years. And while Cas’ crush on the man has really only intensified, Cas does his best to tamp down his feelings. He doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize this…this friendship they’ve struck up. 

He’s pretty sure it’d break his heart.

—

“No.”

“No?” Dean questions, then sniffs loudly. “Are you allowed to tell your customers no? Won’t that like…get you fired or something?”

“I’m not making you a coffee, Dean. You’re sick. You need tea and rest and to not be out in public.”

Dean wrinkles his nose, grimacing. “I hate tea, though. It’s just hot leaf juice.” Cas ignores him and puts a tea bag in a cup of hot water, sweetens it with honey.

“Here, I won’t even charge you for it.”

“Still doesn’t change the fact that I don’t want it,” Dean says the and gosh, he sounds so miserably sick that Cas’ heart hurts.

“Just drink your tea, Dean. Please?” Cas pleads. Dean huffs but takes a sip, making a face as he swallows.

“This is gross.” Cas rolls his eyes.

“You’re being a baby.”

“I don’t care. I’m sick.” Dean sighs. “I hate being sick. I don’t have  _time_  to be sick.” Cas reaches out and strokes down the side of Dean’s arm comfortingly.

“Do you want to lay down on the couch in the break room?” Dean shakes his head. “Dean,” Cas implores because that wasn’t a suggestion. 

“If I lay down, I’m gonna fall asleep Cas. And then I’ll be late picking Sam up.”

“I’ll wake you,” Cas offers. “3:50, I swear. Please Dean. You look like you’re about to keel over.” Dean takes a deep breath which then causes a coughing fit. Cas comes out from behind the counter and rubs his hand over Dean’s back, soothing, as he leads Dean towards the back. Dean stops coughing but he’s too weak to really fight Cas off from helping him get settled in the break room. Cas lays his trench coat over Dean’s body in lieu of a blanket and Dean clutches it closer to him, shivering a bit. Cas presses the back of his hand to Dean’s forehead and sure enough, he’s running a fever. With a sigh, Cas runs his hand through Dean’s hair and Dean leans into the touch.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you in a bit.”

“Thanks Cas,” Dean says, his eyes already closed. Cas leans forward and places a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead before going back to work.

At 3:50, Cas leans against the door of the break room and watches Dean sleep. He really doesn’t want to wake Dean up, would rather let him sleep and get the rest he needs, but Dean’ll be pissed if Cas lets him oversleep and his brother would probably worry. So as much as Cas hates to do it, he gently jostles Dean’s shoulder waking him.

“Hello Dean,” he says with a small smile. “It’s time to get up.” Dean blinks awake yawning, his eyes still glazed over with sleep and sickness. Slowly, he sits up, Cas’ coat dropping down to pool in his lap. 

“Right,” Dean says quietly, most likely to himself, as he reorients himself. “I gotta go get Sam.”

“And then hopefully you’ll go right back to sleep. Maybe have some soup for dinner. Sam can make it.” Dean shakes his head.

“No ‘e can’t,” he says around a yawn.

“He’s seventeen, Dean, I think he can manage to heat up a can of soup.”

“Trust me,” Dean says with what could be a laugh or a cough, Cas isn’t sure, “I don’t let Sam in the kitchen for a reason. Kid could burn water.” He hefts himself to his feet and Cas reaches a hand out to help steady him. Dean carefully lays Cas’ coat on the couch and then catches Cas’ eye. The moment suddenly becomes charged, and if Dean wasn’t so sick he thinks that he’d probably kiss Cas. 

“Thanks man. Seriously. I mean it.” Cas squeezes his shoulder.

“Feel better,” Cas insists. Dean smiles just enough that his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“I’ll try.”

—

Dean comes in around the same time every Monday and Wednesday to the point that Cas has taken to brewing a fresh pot of coffee around quarter to three. He doesn’t even have to order anymore—Cas has the mug waiting for him on the counter at three pm on the dot for Dean to pick up once he makes his way through the door. Dean always smiles thankfully and sticks around for a few minutes to chat before sitting at a table when another customer comes in and Cas needs to do his job.  

Cas expects it (looks forward to it) which is why he’s so confused at 3:15 on a Monday near the end of November when the mug is still sitting on the counter and Dean is nowhere in sight. 

The longer he waits, the more worried Cas gets. There are so many things that could have happened to Dean to prevent him from coming in, but as time passes, Cas goes from explaining it away with a million logical reasons to thinking up creative disasters, where Dean’s been mugged or gotten in a car accident or taken hostage in a bank robbery, to explain Dean’s absence. It’s not like Dean has any way of contacting Cas to tell him he’s not coming; Cas never did get the courage up to give Dean his number and he never asked. 

He’s so wound up by his own thoughts that he messes up making a cappuccino and burns himself on the milk steamer as he’s making a second one for free to appease the customer. It’s after four now, and Dean’s coffee is still sitting there. Cas has no choice but to pick the mug up off the counter and pour it down the drain.

The rest of his shift is spent with his mood getting darker and darker until it’s six and time for him to go home. He grunts at Andy who takes over the night shift when he greets him.  

Wednesday, Cas hopefully makes Dean a cup of coffee but, like Monday, he doesn’t show.

Despair settles, low and aching, in his chest.

Cas has stopped imagining wild, terrible things have happened to Dean. He’s not dead in a ditch somewhere. He would have heard about it on the news, surely, if that had happened. No, it’s more likely that Dean just got sick of him. It’s certainly not the first time that something like this has happened. 

Cas just wishes he knew what it was that he  _did_  to scare Dean off.

—

It’s been a few weeks since Dean has stopped coming in and Cas still misses him, is still a little down in the dumps, but in the interim he’s thrown himself headfirst into his school work. At the very least, Dean’s disappearance was good for GPA and his thesis advisor is really very pleased with his progress. 

Really, he’s quite ready to put the whole thing behind him.  

Which would be why, on the second Saturday in December, at the tail end of his shift, Dean walks through the door, a little red faced and sheepish, but covering it up quite well. There’s another person with him, a boy that can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, and he’s tall, already almost as tall as Dean. Cas thinks that this must be Sam, the little brother. Dean takes a quick glance around the cafe, clearly looking for Cas, and if Cas could run away into the back without being seen, he would, other customers be damned.

Thankfully, Cas isn’t at the register. His coworker Alfie is manning the register, still too green to handle the rush of people. Cas has never been so grateful for working the machines, making drinks on a busy Saturday. It means that he gets to hide behind work and doesn’t have to face Dean right away, has an excuse to ignore him. 

But when it’s Dean’s turn to order, he doesn’t speak to Alfie; instead he calls out to Cas.

“Hey Cas! What would you recommend for someone who just aced the SAT?” There’s a line of people behind him and Cas knows that he’s not going to go anywhere until Cas answers him. With a huff, and a carefully school expression, Cas turns toward Dean. 

He’s smiling at Cas, his arm thrown around his brother’s shoulder, and there’s something soft and pleading in his eyes, an unspoken apology.  

Cas is determined not to accept it. 

“I’m afraid we don’t serve alcohol here,” he replies. “And even if we did, your brother is underage.” Dean laughs and his brother turns a delightful shade of red, clearly embarrassed by the whole thing.

“I keep telling you Dean. I don’t  _know_  how I did and I won’t for weeks.”

“Aw come on Sammy. We both know you got all the brains in the family. If you didn’t do well, I’ll eat my left shoe.” 

“It’s  _Sam_ ,” he insists, shrugging off Dean’s arm around his shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“At least one more, Sammy,” Dean teases with a grin and Cas feels some of his anger melt away. He’s still upset, but seeing Dean happy and well and making fun of his brother is a balm he didn’t know he needed. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” and he stalks off to the corner where the restrooms are located. Cas sighs.

“Alfie, I got this,” Cas tells his coworker. “Black coffee for you Dean?” 

“To go,” Dean nods, his face a little more drawn and contrite now that his brother’s out of earshot. He waves Dean down to the other end of the counter, where he’ll pick up his drinks. “After about 4 hours of testing, Sam’s pretty ready to go home and take a nap.”

“I’m sure,” Cas says as he goes about making a hot chocolate for Sam.

“I’m sorry I stopped showing up,” Dean says a second later. “Sammy’s thing ended and I didn’t realize until I went to take him to the library that Monday and he told me it was over. I didn’t have a way to let you know and I thought about coming back on that Saturday, but I figured you were probably mad at me.”

“I was angry,” Cas admits.

“But not anymore?” Dean asks. Cas doesn’t respond, can’t really, because he is still angry. He gets it, but that doesn’t mean he wants to forgive Dean, is capable of forgiving Dean right now. 

“Right,” Dean mutters after a moment of silence. “Okay then. I’ll just…take my coffee and get out of your hair.” He turns away from the counter and goes to loiter by the bathroom to wait for Sam. Cas watches him for a moment and then sighs. He has missed Dean and this whole thing seems so  _stupid_. He just wants things to go back to the way they were, when they were friends. Before he can change his mind he picks up a to go cup and writes down his number in black marker on the side. After a moment’s pause he adds ‘ _Now you’ve got no excuse_ ,’ before he fills it up with fresh coffee and puts a lid on it. 

Sam’s come out of the bathroom now and is giving Dean a weird look at his sudden mood change. When Cas slides the to go cups across the pick up counter, Sam’s the one who retrieves them.

“Congratulations on finishing the SAT.”

“Thank you,” he says, politely, before heading back to his brother and handing him his coffee. Cas watches them go, his gaze intense as he tries to will Dean with his mind to look down at his cup. 

He doesn’t.

He shuffles out the door, his shoulders hunched, as his brother trails behind him. Cas tells himself that hey, at least he tried, but the thought is hollow and untrue. But there’s nothing he can do about it now short of running after them. He doesn’t, but only because he needs his job and also because, if he’s honest, he’s a bit of a coward.

—

When he gets off work an hour later he pulls his phone out of his coat pocket to turn the ringer back on as he’s walking to his car and he’s surprised to see a new message from a number he doesn’t know.

 _I rly am sorry_ , it says and there’s no doubt in Cas’ mind that it’s from Dean. 

 **It’s alright** , he writes back, the words coming easier to him now than when he saw Dean in person.

 _Rly? Or r u just sayin that?_  

 **Let’s just say I’m willing to let you make it up to me.**  Cas considers adding a winky face, but ultimately decides against it. His phone is ringing a second later, Dean calling him. 

“Hello Dean,” he answers, a grin working its way onto his face.

“Hey Cas,” Dean clears his throat nervously and Cas can just picture him running a hand through his hair, ruffling it all up. “About making it up to you?”

“Yes?” 

“Did you maybe wanna go out or something sometime?”

“Like a date?” Cas asks because he wants to be clear. He’s so damn tired of dancing around this thing between them. It’s fine if Dean doesn’t feel the same way, but Cas just needs to  _know_.

“Uh yeah, like a date.” Dean’s voice cracks a bit over the last word and Cas can’t help it. He laughs. “Jeez, if you don’t want to, all you have to do was say so.”

“No, no!” Cas rushes to correct then winces because that came out all wrong. “Dean, I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?” And Cas can practically hear the hopeful smile on his face. 

“Yeah,” Cas responds.

“I’m free tomorrow,” Dean offers. Cas has finals just around the corner and two papers to write but he doesn’t care. 

“I know a great place to get coffee.”


End file.
